


the snow carefully everywhere descending

by littledust



Category: Clover
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-08
Updated: 2010-01-08
Packaged: 2017-10-17 21:47:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/181496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littledust/pseuds/littledust
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gingetsu and Ran watch their second snowfall together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the snow carefully everywhere descending

**Author's Note:**

> I thought that post-Yuletide 2009 would be a great time to post what I wrote for Yuletide 2007. Um.

The morning weather report predicts snow later in the day, much to Kazuhiko's sorrow. "I have to go home before I see Oruha! What if I get snowed in before I get to her place?"

"Mm," Gingetsu answers, preoccupied with his reports. He's going to have to work more quickly if he wants them done in time.

Kazuhiko heaves a dramatic sigh. "Easy for you to say, with the kid already waiting for you at home."

He ignores him.

Later, despite Kazuhiko's raised eyebrows, Gingetsu gathers up his things and leaves early when the first light, drifting flakes begin to fall. He does not hurry home exactly, but his walk is perhaps more purposeful than usual, and there is a hint of impatience to the normally impassive face at any unexpected delay. So he walks on, heedless of the weather now that he has noted its change. No, it is not the snow that drives him homeward.

It is memory.

The figure in the window is taller than it was last year, but still slight, still pressed up against the glass. Gingetsu pauses a moment in the doorway, taking in the sprawl of long limbs and dark hair, the unconscious grace so particular to one person alone.

Ran, always able to sense his presence, turns to smile at him, smile warmer than the buzz of electricity but with more fidelity than the flickering of candlelight. "It's snowing," he says, and though this is the second snowfall he has watched, the undercurrent of joy is the same as the first. This year, his wonder is childlike rather than childish, though there are echoes of the child in the adolescent, the small boy who spent years without windows.

An answering smile tugs the corner of his lips upwards before Gingetsu can clamp down on it; this sort of thing has occurred more and more frequently, ever since a certain Three-Leaf found his way into the household. There is something scarcely appropriate about this type of behavior, but Gingetsu finds himself caring less and less as each day passes, as each day he wakes with something-- _someone_ \--to look forward to. This stirring of emotion, this movement within: it is slow yet inexorable in the manner of glaciers.

The snowflakes outside the window are larger than before, falling down, down in pale spirals. White flakes, gray skies, white room, gray eyes in a pale face; the face alight with an expression Gingetsu has never quite seen before. He stills his hands at his sides before they reach out to--what?

"I'm going into the kitchen. Would you like anything?"

Gingetsu has already turned around, not wanting to see the inevitable crestfallen look, and he almost misses Ran's soft response. No, that is a lie: he is incapable of missing any detail concerning the boy--the man--Ran.

Tea. The kitchen is a place for tea; he has closed the door upon other rooms, other modes of being. Gingetsu fills the kettle with water, sets it on the stove, turns the burner on. There is too much time to think as the water boils, so he takes out the teacups with extra care, setting a place for two out of habit. He frowns. Ran is welcome, always welcome, but the meaning of "welcome" now entails something of a different nature.

As if summoned by his thoughts, Ran tugs at his sleeve, eyes beseeching. "You're--you're missing it."

"Missing what?"

"The snow." Then, hastily, "I know you've seen it so many times that it might not be special anymore. But it's special to the snow." It's special to me remains unspoken, but Gingetsu can hear it nevertheless.

"I'll be back with your tea."

And Ran is smiling again, softer, sweeter, no longer the nearly incandescent flash of joy. This is a simpler happiness, one that Gingetsu feels safe encouraging, and he allows himself another faint trace of a smile as the kettle whistles. The tea takes only a few minutes, and he brings Ran a cup as promised.

"Thank you."

Time passes in quiet sips of tea and light drifts of snow; the wind once gusts hard enough to rattle the windowpane. There is an audible clink when Ran sets down his teacup on the windowsill, and the silence grows less and less comfortable. Ran seems unhappy for some reason.

"I never noticed the snow until you came." Gingetsu surprises himself with speaking up, but surprise melts into contentment when Ran turns to him, all hint of sorrow gone from his face.

"But it's so beautiful."

 _You are beautiful,_ Gingetsu wants to say, absurdly enough, but instead:

"It didn't mean anything to me."

The wind has settled down, though snowflakes still eddy in the light breeze. Ran presses a hand against the glass, the other hand against his heart; the motion is enough to set off a strange ache in Gingetsu's. "Still," Ran murmurs, "it's worth looking at. Even if it's only going to stay a little while, it's worth looking at."

Gingetsu's mouth has gone dry. "Ran."

Ran turns, standing in a slow unfolding of limbs like a cat. He is taller than he was last week, Gingetsu notes, and then Ran's gaze locks with his with an intensity enough to make the rest of his thoughts disappear, his focus narrow down to this one person invited into his home and consequently into his heart. Ran takes his teacup from his numb fingers and sets it down next to the other one, all without ever breaking eye contact. The gentle atmosphere of the afternoon has become charged with strange electricity; perhaps it is all Ran with the unique powers of a Three-Leaf. But Gingetsu feels it within himself as well, and however much he would like to attribute it to an external source, he cannot rationalize away his own internal workings, the beat of his own heart.

"Oh," Ran says in a very small voice, and then reaches up to kiss him.

The kiss is clumsy at first due to Ran's inexperience, but it has its own sweet perfection: the soft press of lips upon lips, Ran's fingers entangled in his jacket, Ran's face cradled between his hands. Gingetsu stops himself there, a mere single step away from innocence, but Ran huffs an impatient little breath, pulling himself closer, mouth sliding open. Desire unfurls itself within Gingetsu's chest, and for the first time he thinks that perhaps he might be able to make something of the faith that Ran has placed in him. One hand curls around the base of Ran's neck, the other around his hip, shifting upwards to seek bare skin warm to the touch. Ran sighs again, this time in pleasure, and then draws back.

Before Gingetsu's confusion can shift to panic, Ran smiles (again, another smile, and that more than a scant few smiles in one day is a notable fact means that he smiles too little most of the time) and says, "Perhaps we should move away from the window."

Reveling in this new freedom, Gingetsu gives a low chuckle before he says, "Of course."

Outside the window, the snow has stopped falling, and the world is blanketed in white.


End file.
